


When It Rains

by illyalien



Category: Original Work, Our Hometown
Genre: Angst, Bad Communication, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Happy Ending tho, Insecurity, Movie Night, Multi, Mutual Pining, Rain, Rain Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyalien/pseuds/illyalien
Summary: "And it wasn’t that she didn’t like the rain, it just got in the way of things."Worst. Week. Ever. Erica Stewart is a patient girl, but this is ridiculous. In which her favorite coffee-shop is closing down, her best friend is pissed off at her, and her mom is finally starting to move on from her dad. Oh, and she ruins several pairs of shoes.(Set one year after the main story. Canon ashell)





	1. It Pours

**Author's Note:**

> My mother accused me of losing my mind,  
> But I swore I was fine, you paint me a blue sky  
> And go back and turn it to rain.  
> \- Dear John, Taylor Swift

As she closed the front door of her house on her way to the bus stop, Erica Stewart ruined her new winter boots.

It had rained the night before, and had been raining all throughout winter break. Unfortunately for Erica, the puddles surrounding her house hadn’t calculated into her morning routine.

And it wasn’t that she didn’t like the rain, it just got in the way of things. She was probably going to catch a cold, what with her hair still damp from her shower, and it was freezing outside. Then boots her aunt and uncle had gotten her in Portland were soaked in muddy rainwater. Coming back to school after winter break was just the cherry on top of a miserable morning.

Thankfully, no one tried to talk to her during first or second period, save for Ryland Hayes, who got a pass due to his uncanny ability to always say the right thing.

(They used to joke, when they were younger, that Ryland was the sun and Erica was the moon. She believed that the rule still stood.)

“You okay, Eri?” he asked when she sat down. They both had physics together second period, which saved the rest of the class from dealing with Erica’s grumpy attitude or Ryland’s absent-mindedness. “You look like a wet cat.”

“Incredible,” she grumbled. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I can still hear my bed calling for me.”

“No no no,” Ryland said, shaking his head. He was already reaching over to nudge her awake. “We’re taking some notes today, and I can send you pictures, but you are _not_ leaving me to fend for myself for this next lab.”

Normally, Erica would have perked up at the mention of a physics lab--their teacher always managed to make them interesting--but her patience had run thin.

“Did you get your coffee?” He did that a lot: checking up on her.

“No thanks to my brother.”

“Which one?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Leo.”

Ryland made a face as well, which made Erica laugh, which made him smile.

“Want to go to Jasmine’s after school?” he asked.

Jasmine’s Corner Coffee House was, factually, the best coffee shop that Aschport had to offer, in Erica’s professional opinion. She had discovered it the summer before they started high school, and it had become the unofficial hangout spot for the duo, now trio.

Erica shrugged and pulled out her books. One was the textbook for the class, which was what made her backpack like a bag of bricks, and the two others were her reading material. A book on Joan of Arc, which was her light reading, and then Jane Eyre, which was to tie her over until her next visit to the bookstore.

“Mom’s going out tonight, so it’ll have to be a quick run,” Erica explained. “I’m babysitting.”

Ryland raised a brow, but didn’t press her any further. The teacher walked in then, and Erica twisted in her seat to face the front, even if her attention was elsewhere.

☆

“Kill me,” Erica grouched.

Ryland poked her thigh with his pencil. They were sitting outside of the library, cross-legged around an open bag of potato chips. “That’s murder, Eri. Which is illegal.”

“Then let me put myself out of my misery,” she said as she reached for another chip.

“No can do, Stewart,” Juliet Somer laughed. She was wearing three scarves and two jackets, but Erica excused the excessive dress due to Juliet’s Californian origins.

“Fake friends,” Erica grumbled. She looked down at her notebook and scowled. “I hate algebra.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the building’s brick wall. It was days like these, with gray skies and cool breezes which raised goosebumps on her arms, that overjoyed her. She could wear her biggest, baggiest sweaters to school and still be a little chilly, which might make her an “ice wraith” in Juliet’s eyes, but Erica loved the cold. It was the rain that she was beginning to think twice about.

There was the sound of fluttering of papers and the shifting of boots before Erica opened her eyes again.

Her notebook was still opened on her lap, and Ryland was still at her side, but he was hiding a grin behind his sleeve, and Juliet’s corn-colored hair was nowhere in sight.

“What--”

Erica’s words were lodged in her throat as the wind was knocked from her lungs. An invisible force that was giggling far too much to be gravity had shoved her to the ground with its weight landing on top of her. She fell onto Ryland, who was laughing. Then there was more laughter. _Feminine_ laughter.

“Traitors.” Erica pushed off of Ryland, and went to stand up. Juliet, breathless and red-faced, still had her arms wrapped around Erica’s shoulders.

“Light-en up, Stewart!” Juliet said whilst trying to catch her breath. “We’ve been at this since the end of fifth. We _can_ take a break, y’know.”

Of course, she was right, but for some reason Erica’s face went red with wounded pride. With a huff, she began to put her books away.

“Where are we going?” Ryland asked when she stood up.

“Study break,” she said. “I’m taking a walk.”

Ryland went to stand up with her, but she shook her head.

“Alone, Rye.”

☆

After school, Erica felt seven pounds heavier. It could have been the textbooks in her backpack, but her chest was tight with guilt. Ryland didn’t show up after school, so Erica went to Jasmine’s on her own.

_You got what you wanted. You’re alone._

She couldn’t help but pick up the pace, the dull thudding of her boots against the sidewalk turning into a pitter-patter akin to the rain the closer she got to the coffee shop. It was cold, but Erica almost didn’t notice her own fingers going numb in her mittens.

Her breath hitched when the exterior of the shop came into view, but not for the usual reasons.

There was the familiar green door, the chalkboard menu stand with goofy drawings done by the staff, and the awning that was still a little frosty from the cold.

The thing that stuck out to Erica, though, was the big, red “Going Out of Business” sign hung high in the largest window.


	2. On My Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.  
> \- Dolly Parton

“Hey, Erica!” said the girl from behind the front counter. Her name was Miranda, and she went to the same optometrist as Erica did.

Erica mumbled a reply when she walked up to the cashier. She didn’t have the heart or energy for her usual politeness. Not to say she was ever polite, of course, but she made a habit not to be carelessly rude to the people tasked with making her food or drink, and especially not to those who supplied her caffeine addiction.

She didn’t mention the sign to any of the staff, but Erica could see the moving boxes that were littered around the shop, half full of the miscellaneous decorations that used to hang on the walls. They had only just started, obviously, but everything already felt so barren. It was all Erica could think about while she stirred her sugar (1 spoonful) into her mug.

The rest of the patrons didn’t seem too dismayed. It was all Erica could do not to stand up on the table and shout at all of them. It was just a regular Tuesday afternoon, and the place was crowded. She could hardly see  _ why _ they were having to close up shop.

Erica opened up her book on Joan of Arc and was only skimming the pages when the door opened again. The usual chime of the bell signalled a new customer, but Erica didn’t look up.

She almost wished she had.

Her mind was full of turning pages when the sudden change hit her. The table was overshadowed by something. The shadow quivered. Some _ one _ .

Erica craned her neck to look up, hoping to see the sunny barista, or,  _ hell _ , even a patron curious about her book. But no. Erica would only be so lucky.

She had always been told that she had her father’s eyes. Now, staring back into her mother’s steely grey ones, she understood the difference.

“Erica,” her voice was hardly as cold as Erica expected. “I thought you were at home?”

“I’m going to head back as soon as I get my drink.,” said Erica, even though that was never the plan. “Ryland was supposed to meet up with me, but he got sidetracked.”

Her mother hummed, and for a moment Erica thought she might get out unscathed. SHe closed her book, hoping that her mother would take the hint. She didn’t.

“Well,” her mother started, “I’m just here for--”

As if the afternoon couldn’t get any worse, Erica didn’t see the figure running up behind her mom. She certainly didn’t register his presence until she glanced ever so slightly to the left: and there he was.

“Molly!” the man exclaimed. He was holding a drink in each hand, one was slightly lifted so that her mother would take it.

“George.” Her mother nodded, and took the drink. “This is my daughter, Erica.”

Erica was taught by her mother that one should keep their professional and personal life separate. Erica was learning all sorts of new meanings to the things she had heard as a child.

George extended his now free hand to Erica, who was still staring at him. His face was vaguely familiar, somehow. He had fair skin with a rosy complexion, and freckles just dotting the tip of his nose. Unlike her mother, who only had faint smile lines, he had severe wrinkles creasing his brow, and even more pronounced smile lines that Erica wouldn’t really notice until later. His auburn hair was cropped short, and he was wearing a collared shirt. Truthfully, he could have been anyone.

“You’re the soccer coach at Aschport High,” Erica blurted. This surprised both her and her mom, seeing as Erica Stewart rarely blurted. Her cheeks darkened a shade, and she shook his hand.

“Um,” he said, looking to her mother, “I...I am? I mean! I am.”

“George,” her mother muttered. “We should leave her to her reading. She has to go back home as soon as she has her drink.”

Erica was grateful for her mother then, but she nearly jumped out of her seat at the idea of the two of them leaving  _ alone _ .

“Well,” George said, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Erica.”

Erica nodded at him, and watched them walk away and out of the coffee shop. They went down the sidewalk, and around the corner.

It took every ounce of restraint Erica had not to run after them.

☆

Alone in her room, Erica only had her thoughts to keep her company, which was a very dangerous thing. There was also her brothers, but they were downstairs watching  _ Nemo  _ for the nth time. So she was left alone to the star projection on her ceiling and the ideas in her brain. And the sound of not-sobs that escaped her every once in a while. She wasn’t crying, even if this was the worst day she’d had in months.

She had three missed calls from Juliet, and nothing from Ryland. She wasn’t expecting anything less; the boy knew when to leave her alone. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed at the passive-aggressiveness of it all.

So she did the unthinkable, and called him herself.

After one ring, he picked up.

Static cracked in her ear.

“H-hello?” his voice mumbled over the phone.

Oh. Right. They were both dreadful with phone calls.

“Shit. Sorry.”

She hung up.

And then she texted him.

☆

eri → Rye [5:07 pm]

I forgot

I’m sorry

For snapping at you and storming off

And then calling you

Sorry

Rye → eri [5:15 pm]

dw about it

i figured you needed to blow off steam

sorry i didn’t show for j’s

eri → Rye [5:16 pm]

Don’t worry, only minimal distaster

Disaster*

I saw my mom

With a guy

Rye → eri [5:16 pm]

what??

i’m coming over asap

eri → Rye [5:17 pm]

What?

Ryland

Oh my god

☆

At half past five, Ryland made his way up the stairs. Erica could tell from his heavy footfall that he forgot to take off his shoes, or he simply didn’t care. It was Ryland Hayes, though, so he probably just forgot.

Her bedroom door swung open. Living only a ten minute walk away from your best friend had never proved so useful.

Ryland was drenched head-to-toe; his black curls looked especially poodle-ish. His face was flushed bright red, and his chest was heaving. Erica hardly cared.

She stood up from her desk and flung her arms around his neck. There was the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes between them, but he was so very warm beneath it. He hugged her back fiercely.

Erica sniffled, due to the rain. She wasn’t crying, after all. “I’ll get you a towel. You’re going to catch a cold, you know.”

“I just hauled ass to get here. Please don’t lecture me, Eri.”

She smiled. “Do you know who you’re talking to, or did the rain get to your head as well?”


End file.
